Chapter 3

“Alchemy and any form thereof listed under proclamation L2714.88 is now outlawed in accordance with the vote of the allied senate.”

—Allied Senate Archives, Book 2, page 95

When Reyn stirred, night had come.

In the jail cell’s gloomy darkness, he could not remember where he was. He sat up on the stone floor, his bony elbow bumping against the cell’s wall.

It was then that he remembered. The sorcery test. The fire.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he relived the moments; trying to think if he could have done something, anything differently. He pulled his knees up close to his chest and wiped his eyes.

He thought of how he could have handled the constable better—either by explaining himself more adequately or just by running. His mind never believed he would actually be jailed for something he did not do. His experience in the burning courtroom had seared terrible images into his mind. He tried to forget them, to think about something else, but they always popped up again after a few seconds. He remembered now how close to the exit he had been: an arm’s length. He cursed loudly, frustrated with himself. For failing to escape. For the pain he’d caused.

He heard the cell door unlock. He wiped away his tears and waited for the door to open.

A bright lantern appeared at the door, shining bright into the cell. For the first time, Reyn could clearly see his surroundings: a bunk, a hole, stone walls all around him, and nothing else. The ceiling hung low, and two thin blankets covered the bunk.

Behind the lantern, a dark-skinned man towered beyond the doorway. His eyes were brown and his face was etched with wrinkles and scars, but what Reyn found most striking was his long white hair.

As Reyn stared at the man, a voice broke the silence, “Hello, Reyn.” The voice sounded friendly—as if an old friend had said it.

He watched as the tall figure bent over to step into the cell and sit on the bunk. The man held a staff in his hand, so Reyn remained cautiously quiet and seated on the stone floor.

“You have caused quite a commotion around these parts, Reyn,” the man said while putting the lantern onto the floor. He then leaned back onto the wall, putting his face into shadow, before continuing, “We haven't had a high judge die from an attack in a long time.”

Reyn hesitated a moment. “He died?” he asked with a slow, quiet voice. He knew the penalty for killing someone.

“Then I suppose you didn't know?”

“I just woke up. How could I know?”

“You are incredible in one of two ways: stupidity or ignorance. Shut the door, Albert.”

The cell door shut close.

The man continued, “You are incredibly stupid if you think we don't know that you meant to kill the man. Or you are incredibly ignorant of the enormous power that you must have within your soul. So, which one is it?”

“What?” Reyn asked with a touch of incredulity.

“Which do you plead? Stupidity or ignorance?” he asked, his face still in shadow.

“Ignorance, because I don't know what I did.”

“Good, now that we have the cause of death determined—ignorance—we can continue with the explanation of your fate. I have waited almost all night to explain to you what will happen, but you've been sleeping.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I was clobbered; I wasn't sleeping,” Reyn felt the lump on his neck just to make sure he hadn’t imagined the whole thing.

“Yes, well, you were indisposed in any case. No matter though, you will be hanged in—,” the man took out his pocket watch, bent over to the lantern, and looked at it, “—One hour and forty-five minutes.”

“What?” Reyn quietly gasped.

Putting away the pocket watch, he said, “And don't you think that I enjoy throwing away such a talented boy! Even if you meant to kill Dayohver—even when he wasn't expecting it, it's still an absolutely amazing feat for a boy of your age!” exclaimed the old man with loud enthusiasm. He smiled jovially.

“You’re going to hang me?”

“In just under two hours,” he leaned back, letting his face fall back into shadow.

“Why?”

“Because, my boy, it is the law that when you kill a person—not to mention the countless others who died from their burns due to your poor choice of targets—that you will be hanged. The governor, in theory, could grant reprieve, but by the time he hears of your amazing feats, you will already be dead.”

“Can't you wait?”

“Absolutely not. You're much too dangerous. I don't know whether to congratulate you for becoming so adept at sorcery or whip you to death right here in the cell before they get a chance to hang you. I'm at a crossroads, but I really don't want to make you even more angry at me.” The old man laughed before adding, “Just in case.”

“Sir?” Reyn said before adding, “What do you mean?”

“If you don’t know, then I’m not going to tell you. Do you have any other questions or anything to add?”

“I am innocent. All I did was eat an apple on a fountain, and the constable assumed because I had oil on me that I was one of the other boys that ran past. Then an old, scraggly-haired woman accuses me of burning down inns because she recognized my eyes. Now I've killed a high judge accidentally, and I'll be hanged in a little less than two hours. What is the proof that I've done anything wrong? The high judge caused his own death as far as I'm concerned. It wasn't my fault. He was the one who stabbed me with the hilt.”

The old man, who at first had laughed quietly at Reyn's outburst, had now grown very silent. He sat there staring at Reyn for a little more than a minute before speaking.

“How old are you? Maybe fifteen or sixteen. Anyone as talented as you are should have evidenced some sort of sorcery long before today. Because of this, you should have told the truth—that you were indeed a sorcerer but one with no training. This warning may have saved Dayohver and everyone else in that courtroom from death, for he might have taken extra care. Those were innocent people, and you snuffed them all out—mostly all them anyway and the ones you didn’t—well, they might well wish themselves dead at this moment. The entire affair is tragic. No one expected anything like what you did in that courtroom. That—if done just by testing you—was something special,” the old man paused, “Too special. I can’t have that here in this region. Not now.”

He continued, “As for the inn fires, a witness says you did it. That is all that is needed to hang you. No more, no less. As for why not delay the hanging for a slim chance of reprieve? That will not happen for many reasons. Would you like hear them?”

Reyn said, “No, I would like to request to see my father before I die.” Reyn knew it would take a day or two to find and bring his father, and by then, the governor would hear of him and grant him a reprieve. Maybe.

“And delay the hanging? Oh, no. He will see your corpse buried in an unmarked beggars' graveyard. I sort of pity you, but I really don't. You would pose an unknown but distinct threat to the higher-ranking sorcerers within a period of time as short as ten years, no more than twenty, and we have enough sorcerers as it is without an extraordinary one rising through the ranks—especially in this damned province.”

“So, you’re not hanging me because of what I did?”

The old man adjusted the lantern, lighting Reyn more clearly, “Not really. It was probably as you said: not your fault. But that would require a trial, and far before the trial was over, you’d be pardoned by the governor.”

“I demand a normal trial then.”

“You can’t. Simple as that. I bypassed the system, because I have that power.”

“Who are you? Why do you want to kill me?” Reyn asked with an unbelieving whisper. Tears once more welled up in his eyes.

He asked, “Do you know who the provincial governor is? Of course not. It’s a man named Codinor. Codinor would, within a second's breath, pardon you, recruit you, and gain your undying allegiance. Do you know what type of person Codinor is?”

Reyn stayed silent.

“No? I’ll tell you. He’s clever and greedy. He would see what you are and make you think that he’s helping you. But he’s not. He’s helping himself. He’d help himself to you and what you are. And by looking at you, I don’t think you’d like that very much. Maybe you would. Hard to tell. Power does strange things to people.”

“What do you mean? Isn’t that better than killing me?” Reyn asked, trying to understand what the old man was saying. Reyn sensed there was something that the old man did not like about Codinor. Maybe he was jealous or scared of Codinor.

The old man ignored his question, “I think you'll be better off dead than alive. If you lived, people would use you as a weapon, a tool to threaten or kill. Your speech cries out a simple life, not one with complexity and depth. I’ve seen it before, and I’ve already had enough intrigue and death here in Codinor’s province without you adding to it. I bid you good morning and goodbye,” the old man laughed jovially. He then stood up and strode the single step to the cell door and knocked once.